


Like a Hole in My Heart

by pulpobsessed



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpobsessed/pseuds/pulpobsessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an old story I started writing a few years ago, but recently I've been thinking more and more about it and decided to pick it up again. The original chapters are still floating out there in cyberspace, but everything posted here will be updated and reworked a bit. </p><p>The story follows Dave's story right up until On My Way and then diverges sharply. Everything after that episode gets erased...Kurt still goes to New York, but his story is remarkably different. Think of my story as being a multiverse fic...what if Kurt decided to follow through on his promise and became friends with Dave. The ramifications of that decision follow both boys throughout their lives. </p><p>Nearly 10 years after Dave's suicide attempt, Dave Karofsky is happily living in Washington, DC, and Kurt Hummel is happily living in New York City...but both men feel that something is missing. This is the story of two men - intimately linked to one another - who start a journey that results in things neither of them could ever dream of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Subway Ghosts

If you could only see

What love has made of me

Then I'd no longer be in your mind

The difficult kind

Cause babe I've changed

Sheryl Crow, “The Difficult Kind.”

 

What does February 14th mean to you?  

 It didn’t really matter who you ask - the answer would always be the same. The consensus is widespread, when you’re talking about February 14th, otherwise known as Valentine's Day, you’re really talking about...love. Capital ‘L’ Love too...and romance. Sex. Heartbreak. Sadness. Depression...no matter what brand of associations you label the day with, it’s all gonna start with Love.  

 It could be that special kind of love we all experience in grade school - getting little Thomas the Tank Engine Valentines. Or it could be the bubble gum style love we get in high school - singing telegrams, candy roses...a mixtape (or play list...it is 2020 afterall). Or it could be the sweaty, heated kind of love you get just after last call at your favorite bar.

 Of course, it could be the jackpot kind of love - the monogamous, married, committed lovers kind of love that we kind of want...even if we say we don’t. (Because on Valentine’s Day, you can’t help but want it...want it so bad it hurts.)

Think about it for a moment - think about Valentine’s Day. Think about what it means...what you associate with it. You know it's the truth...love. It’s all about love. Sure, this might be belaboring the point, but it’s kind of worth it...if you’re in a relationship, Valentine’s Day means the reaffirmation of romance between you and your significant other. Normally, this happens through flowers, adorable stuffed animals, chocolates, baked goods, dinners out, and sex.  However, if you’re single, Valentine’s Day usually means shamelessly ordering yourself an extra large cheese pizza, eating the entire thing, plus a pint of chocolate ice cream, while watching various Renee Zellweger movies.  

And then there were those who went out on February 14 - often to a bar, any bar - to find themselves a Valentine who suits them for the night...or just a few hours. Because if the term, Mr. (or Ms.) Right-Now was ever applicable, it certainly was on February 14th!

Or is this all that love crap just some cliche...and....

“OOMPH!”

The sound of the air leaving his lungs as some woman’s very large shopping bag collides with his stomach rudely jolts Kurt Hummel out of his philosophical musings. Spinning around he glares at the receding figure of his assailant - she’s wearing what appears to be denim pajamas and Ugg boots...he dislikes her even more now. But sadly, she’s too far away for him to make any kind of biting remark - as much as he would really love to. Sighing, Kurt turns back around - his brain already trying to catch up, finishing his train of thought.  

Every single year, Kurt finds himself musing about exactly what Valentine’s Day means to him. He certainly doesn’t fall into the relationship category, nor is he the kind of guy to head to a bar and pick up just for the sake of picking up.  And the idea of just sitting at home eating himself into a food coma...well, that’s just sad.  

In the past, Kurt could easily remember getting so caught up in the whole idea of Valentine’s Day.  He could remember getting crazy over the sheer romance of having a day that was entirely devoted to celebrating the love you share with another person.  He could remember, way back in high school, the feeling of anticipation that Valentine’s Day held - the roses, the singing telegrams, the candy...

Kurt shook his head. Clearing it of those thoughts. He couldn’t go there...not again this year.  Valentine’s Day back then...well it involved too many painful memories. No...best to focus on the here and now.

Valentine’s Day, in the year 2020.

Kurt watched dozens of men - and women - hurrying along the icy New York streets. He couldn’t help but wonder which of them will be giving roses to someone tonight.  Or whom among them would be receiving chocolates, or wine, or some dorky stuffed animal, or perhaps something more elaborate...and which of them might find themselves in the throes of passion. Or who would be allowed to exercise that little kink that’s only allowed out of their private kink collection once a year.  

As Kurt pulled his wool coat a bit tighter around himself, blocking out a rather nasty blast of wind up 34th street, he pondered on how many people would hear the words “I love you” tonight.  

But where does that leave Kurt?  

As he stepped off the curb to cross Seventh Avenue, Kurt noticed a poster handing on a lamppost advertising an all night movie marathon of the most romantic classics at the Cinema Village in Greenwich. He paused for a second, wondering why they were advertising so far uptown, and then paused even further as he considered heading to the village to spend the rest of his Friday night watching Casablanca or maybe Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Or...he realized, he could just go home, curl up on his couch and watch either of those movies...or maybe The Notebook...while wrapped up in one of his throw rugs on his couch, possibly sobbing his eyes out and polishing off a bottle of wine.  

And, really, he’s fine with that. Totally fine with it.  

(Those little lies we tell ourselves…)

He’s done it for the last three years...so why break with tradition!  

After all, he really didn’t need to find himself sitting next to some love stricken newly minted gay couple who would spend the entire movie whispering declarations of love to each other...or even worse start fooling around right in front of him!  

No.  Kurt, decided, he was going to head home and let his troubles be washed away by the saccharine sweet stylings of Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams. Or Audrey Hepburn.

Of course, the next complication seemed to be actually getting home.  At the moment, he was stuck in the middle of an enormous crowd of people moving very slowly towards Penn Station.  He really didn’t know why he’d decided to that today was the absolute best day to go to The Drama Shop in Times Square. And he certainly had no idea why he thought it would be a good idea to walk to Penn Station to catch the subway home...the crowds at this time of the day were always going to be insane.  He could have just ordered a new copy of the Wicked songbook from Amazon...but his constant nagging guilt over supporting small New York businesses forced him out in this weather.

God he hated his brain sometimes.  

He pushed his way into Penn Station and started making his way towards the multi leveled subway system beneath Penn...hurrying to catch the number 2 train, which would eventually get him home to Park Slope. If he hurried, maybe he could get take out from The Side Car before the rush of lovers and couples and dates got there...yeah, that’s what he wanted, one of their club sandwiches...with fries  

The very thought of the sandwich suddenly reminded him that he actually hadn’t eaten much today. He could feel his stomach rumbling...crap, maybe he should stop at those little mini bodegas and grab himself a snack.  

He normally hated getting food from those things...the chocolate bars were always soft and melty and the chips were always kind of stale.  He really should have stopped at one of those over priced coffee places in Bryant Park after he’d gone to the library.  

While Kurt was estimating how long it would take him to go back up into the concourse of Penn Station and stop at either Starbucks or that Chickpea place, a man carrying about three dozen roses pushed in front of him on the stairs. Kurt found himself being knocked backwards, slamming into the woman behind him.  She cried out and put both her hands up against Kurt’s back, preventing him from slamming down against the concrete stairs and doing himself quite a lot of harm.

(What was it with people today!)

As Kurt was dusting himself off and rearranging his clothes, all the while apologizing to the woman who had stopped with him on the stairs to check if he was alright, a familiar face passed him - on the escalators opposite him - heading towards the concourse.

It was just a glimpse.  But it was enough to send him reeling.

The woman who prevented him falling was looking at him with great concern as he stepped away from her and started following the man up the stairs.  

It was him.  

Dave Karofsky.

The build was the same.  

The hair - albeit much shorter - was the same.

The eyes...those deep brown eyes, almost puppy dog eyes...they were the same.  

Weren’t they?  

He smiled at the woman, promising her that he was fine, and then hurried up the stairs.  

His eyes searched frantically across the concourse.  The man seemed to have disappeared.  

Then...just when he was certain that he’d imagined it, that head appeared again.  Moving towards the entrance for 34th.  

Kurt moved faster than he imagined he could in this crowd.  

“WAIT!”  

He pushed men carrying roses aside.  He shoved women, who were clutching dozens of shopping bags out of his way.  He was even sure that he might have kicked at least one small child.

But he had gained on the man.  He was less than a foot away.  

“DAVE!”

The man did not turn.  

Kurt surged forward.  He reached out. But he had over-estimated the amount of force that his momentum had given him. His hand came crashing down on the man’s shoulder, shoving the man forward.  

They both stumbled.  The man’s hand shot out and grabbed the wall, stopping himself from falling headfirst onto the floor.  Kurt’s momentum did nothing to prevent him from colliding completely into the man’s back with a rather loud “Oomph!”  Had the man not been built like a brick wall, Kurt would have tumbled head over heels.

Kurt pulled back. Suddenly very unsure of his course of actions over the last minute.  

But he had to follow through.  

“Dave? Dave Karofsky?”

The man stood up and turned around.

And suddenly all Kurt wanted was for the ground beneath his feet to open up and swallow him whole.   

A man who was decidedly not Dave Karofsky was staring back at him - a look of complete confusion on his face.

“”I’m sorry...who? And why did you push me like that?”

Kurt had no idea what to do.  He glanced from side to side...desperate for escape.

“I...I...I...uh. Oh, dear. I’m so sorry. I thought you were an old...I thought you...you look so much like someone I used to...fuck!”

“Somebody you used to fuck?”  There was the slightest hint of a laugh in the man’s voice.

Kurt blushed deeply.  “I’m so sorry...I didn’t mean to...”

The man smiled.  His smile was so much like Dave’s. And Kurt knew that smile well...he’d seen it every day for months. He’d woken up to it.  He’d fallen asleep to it.   

And it was just not fair that this man - this stranger - should be allowed to wear that smile.  

It pissed Kurt off, slightly.    

In fact, the man looked so much like Dave it was uncanny.  This stranger, whom Kurt had decided to run down, was tall - close to six feet or more. He had very short brown hair, strikingly kind brown eyes and there was a small, amused smile playing around the edges of his lips.  And he was large. Built like a tree trunk - his body screamed strength and power.  Similarly to what Kurt had always seen in Dave.  His was broad shouldered,  thick chested, and it looked like his arms could crush a man.  

All of it eerily reminded Kurt of Dave.  

Standing here, faced with a man that Kurt could only properly define as Dave Karofsky’s doppelgänger, meant that he was suddenly consumed with dozens memories of the absent man. Memories that were both good and bad.  Memories that elicited a very physical response from Kurt.  Memories that Kurt would rather not play out in the middle of Penn Station.   

Regardless of his wishes, for the briefest of moments Kurt was no longer standing in the middle of the Penn Station’s busy concourse level, instead he was standing in the middle of the Lima Mall. Two strong hands weighing heavily on his waist. Leaning in.... A whispered plea as his friends watched in shock...

_“Please don’t hurt me...”_

Suddenly, the voice of the man standing in front of him, the man he had nearly thrown face first onto floor, rocketed him back to present. Back to New York. Back to the middle of Penn Station.

“Hey, it’s ok.” The man’s voice was soft.  Gentle. God, he even sounded like Dave.  “I do that sometimes too...Although, I don’t think I’ve never run after the person in the middle of Penn Station, or told them they remind me of someone I had sex with...”

“That’s not what I meant!” Kurt shrieked!  

“I know...I’m just kidding you! Anyways, are you ok?  You rammed into my back pretty hard.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok.” Kurt absent-mindedly rubbed his neck.  Feeling increasingly self-conscious with this whole situation. He wanted to turn away and run...run until he was safely on the train, speeding towards home.  Where he could obsess over the strangeness of running after a man who looked exactly like his...

The man was touching him.  Concern written across his face. “Are you sure? Your neck doesn’t hurt or anything?”

“No...really I’m ok. Honest. I’m just embarrassed.”

“Ok...” The man smiled again.  “Well...maybe, it was like fate or something that made you think you saw...whoever it was you thought you saw...and come running after me.”

“Fate?”  Kurt’s head was starting to hurt.  This all was just too much.  He really wanted to slip away and just go home to try and figure things out.  He wanted to spend the rest of the night trying to understand why he’d reacted so strongly when he thought he saw Dave.  He wanted to figure out why this man’s resemblance to Dave was so overpowering and startling. Plus, he wasn’t really listening to anything this guy was saying.  

“Yeah...you know, a chance meeting on Valentine’s Day.  Two strangers meet in a train station...it's like some old movie. I’m Bryan, by the way.” He held out his hand.  

Kurt smiled.  Oh. Flirting.  Right.  Crap. Because what else could make this whole situation even more awkward? Kurt smiled cautiously at the large man in front of him. This situation had gone from weird to surreal. The guy - who incidentally looked exactly like Kurt’s ex-boyfriend - had taken an interest in the crazy guy who had come crashing into him. Naturally.  

Not entirely sure if he was doing the right thing, Kurt held out his own hand.  

“Hello. I’m Kurt.”

“Its nice to meet you. Um...” Bryan suddenly looked uncomfortable.  Unsure of what to say next.

Then, “Where were you going before you decided to come crashing into me?”

“Home...to a movie and dinner.”

“No Valentine’s plans?”

“No...just me and my apartment and my cat.”

“Oh - well, cats can be good company.”

Kurt felt his eyebrow raise.  There was something in the way he said that...“Yeah, they are.”

The man looked down at the floor.  He shifted his weight between his feet.  Clearly uncomfortable.  

Kurt decided to break the silence...and take pity on the poor guy. “What about you? Any Valentine’s plans?”

The man laughed softly and shook his head.  “No. My friends and I do an annual dinner and drinks night - we’re all single.  Sort of a celebrate the single life thing.  It’s all very sad and pathetic.”

“Well, my next question would be where on earth are you going from Penn Station...there is quite literally nothing around here, unless you like the Olive Garden, or God forbid, Times Square!”

Bryan laughed.  It was a deep, throaty laugh.  And, god, did it sound like Dave’s laugh.  “God no. There really is fuck all around here.  We’re going to a pub near The Village that’s doing some single appreciation-day thing...I’m just picking up my friend from work.”

“Sounds...amusing.”

“Yeah. Hope so.  Would...ok, this is going to sound insane...but would you like to come along?”

Kurt frowned.  He shook his head.  “No. Thank you, but no.”  He really didn’t need this...not at this exact moment.

“Ok. It was a chance...I took it.”

“Right.  Well, I’m going to head home now. Again, I’m really sorry for practically tackling you earlier.”

“Hey, I’m just sorry I wasn’t who you wanted me to be.”

“Yeah...” Kurt said, a hint of sadness seeping into his voice. “So am I.”

Bryan just nodded. And shuffled his feet again.  

“Again, I’m sorry and it was nice to meet you. Have a good night with your friends.”  Kurt turned to walk quickly back towards the subway.  

He barely got three steps away when, “Wait!”

Kurt spun around again.

The look on Bryan’s face...it hit Kurt like a ton of bricks.  That same lost, lonely expression he’d once seen on Dave’s face all those Valentines ago.  A look of rejection and utter desolation.  

Kurt stumbled slightly.  

This was weirder than uncanny.  This was like something out of some fantasy novel.  This was the stuff of movies.

Because this man...he...he was Dave Karofsky.  For extents and purposes - his build, his eyes, his face, his voice...he _WAS_ Dave. But...but he wasn’t!

“Y-y-yes?”  

“Here...”  Bryan held out a card.  “It’s my business card.  Look, I might never hear from you again. But, fuck, you know.  I have to at least let the option be out there.”

“Yeah. Right.”  Kurt took the card and slipped it into his coat pocket.  

“Do you think that I could get your number?” The tone was hopeful.

Kurt rattled off his number without really thinking about it, mentioning that it was his cell so could be reached by text.  Kurt was just so shell-shocked...in retrospect, he’d probably regret that later.  

Kurt smiled at Bryan again, still desperate to escape, he turned away and quickly made his way through the crowd towards the subway.  He heard Bryan call out after him again, but this time he didn’t turn or stop.  He just hurried.  Hurried down the stairs.  Hurried through the turnstiles. Hurried onto the platform.  And hurried into the train.

 His heart was pounding.

 How had today gotten so confusing?  Why had Dave Karofsky - or rather the specter of Dave Karofsky - suddenly reappeared in his life? In his psyche?  

 Why had Bryan reminded Kurt so much of Dave?

 Of _his_ Dave?  

 It had been nearly a decade since the events of senior year. Since Kurt had broken not one boy’s heart, but two. Since that fatal kiss.  

 Since that whispered plea.  

 Since the most intense and passionate five months of his life.

 Since he’d fallen in love for the second time in his life...a love that he’d destroyed without really meaning to.

 Kurt closed his eyes.  

 This was impossible.  A case of mistaken identity...an eerie look-a-like...and suddenly Kurt was overcome with the the same emotions he remembered feeling back then.

 But most of all he was filled with regret.  

 As the 2 train rattled towards Park Slope, Kurt found himself wondering.  

 Where was Dave?  What had become of him?  Had he stayed in Washington after going to Georgetown or had he gone off to Boston or San Francisco or Seattle?  Did he stick with studying math and science or did he wind up in medicine? Did he still collect Star Wars Lego? Was his favorite book still Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?  Who were his friends?  Did he have someone who loved him?  

Was he happy?

Did he ever think of Kurt?

Of what happened?  

The subway car swayed and bumped along.  And as Kurt swayed and bumped along with it, he made a decision.  

It had been eight years since he had last seen Dave Karofsky.  And there was a lot that Kurt had to say to him…

(I’m sorry.  I miss you…)

Kurt decided right there and then, somewhere between Wall Street and Flatbush Avenue, that he needed to find Dave Karofsky...that he needed the other to know that he...missed him.

That he was sorry.

That hated himself for what he did.

Kurt pulled out his iPad and started making a to-do list.  With the help of Google, this hopefully wouldn’t be all that hard.

Kurt smiled to himself...running into Bryan might just have been a blessing in disguise. Because maybe, Kurt Hummel would be able to get a redo on the biggest mistake of his life.  

As Kurt tapped away on his iPad, the sound of the subway car’s wheels seemed to echo five words that haunted Kurt every day.  

Five whispered words uttered from the mouth of a sad, lonely, boy who threw every safeguard he had to the wind and put his life and it’s safe keeping in hands of Kurt Hummel.  

Five words that Kurt just couldn’t live up to.  

 _Please, don’t hurt me, Kurt._  


	2. Perfect Life

> I believe in you even through the all tears and laughter,
> 
> I believe in you even though we're apart.
> 
> I believe in you even on the morning after.
> 
> Oh, when the dawn is nearing
> 
> When the night is disappearing
> 
> This feeling will still be here in my heart.
> 
> Bob Dylan, “I Believe in You.”

  


There was barely a sound...just the deep steady breathing of someone fast asleep.

The bedroom was completely dark, even this late in the afternoon.  The heavy drapes were pulled tightly together, preventing any errant rays of afternoon sunlight from breaking into what was clearly a sanctuary of sleep.

The bedroom was warmly decorated - painted a light chocolate brown with a dark brown trim.  The furniture in the room was stained in dark chocolate tones, giving the space a rich and distinct masculine feel - modern and tasteful. The whole room was dominated by the huge king sized wood frame bed - definitely not something bought at Ikea, but probably bought at some small Mennonite furniture store in Virginia or Maine. It was covered by a large duvet that was sheathed in a dark brown cover. On either side of the bed, two night stands each hold a small lamp, iPod dock stations, and a small pile of books. Tucked away in one corner of the room was a large soft looking chair, with a tall reading light behind it and a small table next to it, which had its own pile of books and a long forgotten mug of tea.  Along one wall was the door to a walk-in closet, and on the opposite wall, next to the bed, was the entry to the en-suite bathroom.  And along another, was a dresser.  

Hung directly above the bed was a vintage Star Wars poster, professionally framed. And directly across from it was a 40-inch flat screen television.  Littered throughout the room, were dozens of personal photographs.  On the bed-side tables.  On the dresser.  On the table next to the chair.  And mounted on the wall throughout the room.  

Pictures of a larger, muscular man smiling at the camera. Photos with his father, proudly hugging his son as he graduated from both an undergraduate degree and later a graduate degree. Photos with his best friend - a short blond woman - both hamming it up for the camera.  In one he is posing shirtless on a sandy beach, while the woman dumps water over his head.  And photos with his lover - a shorter, stocky man.  In every one of those photos, both men look as though they’d won the lottery.  

It was the room of someone who has a very happy life.  A comfortable life. A life that one does not take for granted.

And, indeed, Dave Karofsky never took it for granted...not one minute of it.

As Dave Karofsky rolled over to burrow even deeper into his pillows and duvet, he allowed that deep sense of comfort and love envelop him.  He pressed his face into the pillows and smiled in his sleep, the sleepy smile of a man who was happy to wake up - because he had so much to wake up for.  

Only…

(Oh...fuck…)

...maybe not so much this morning.

Even in his mostly unconscious state, Dave could feel the intense hangover edging his brain...a hangover that was sure to practically incapacitate him once he’d fully woken up.

Dave pressed his face into his pillow, moaning slightly. He could feel the push of consciousness starting...starting to yank him out of his perfectly wonderful sleep.  Starting to pull him right into his hangover. Forcing him to face his own fucking stupidity from the night before.  

Dave opened one eye. You could practically hear the flesh of his eye lid rasping against his eyeball...that was never good.  

He found himself staring right into the pillow. After a brief moment of panic over the loss of his eyesight, Dave realized he was blind only because his face was pressed into the pillow, so he slowly angled his head. Once he blinked the momentary blurriness away, he managed to get a clear view of where the time was projected on the side of his bedside table.  

3:00

Dave groaned.  And turn his head back into the pillow - this time relishing the darkness.

How could it be three o’clock...he went to bed at 3:15 in the morning, time didn’t move backwards, did it?  Plus he almost felt like he’d been sleeping.

Unless...

(Oh. Holy. Fuck.)  

It was three in the afternoon.

He shifted his body again.  This time so he was facing the opposite direction.  The other side of the bed was empty.  

Crap.

Three in the afternoon.  Alone in bed.  Yeah...this was bad.

Dave tried to sit up, but the moment he did his brain exploded into a million tiny pinpoints of light and pain. They rolled past his vision, effectively blinding him.  His mouth instantly went dry and a long painful shudder, that started in his stomach, shook his entire body.  He couldn’t help the involuntary moan of pain that escaped his lips.  As the sound broke out into the silent bedroom, it ricocheted  back and practically knocked him flat again.

Dave slowly let himself fall back against the sheets and pillows.

As he did, he suddenly became aware of the rest of his body.  Besides the constant dull ache in every joint and muscle, he was covered in dried sticky sweat - the kind that you only get after a night of hard drinking.  And the sheets - his favorite sheets - had actually stuck to his skin.  

Plus, his mouth definitely tasted like vomit.  

He was naked...so he had either gotten or been undressed at some point.  But his chest hair was matted down with gross drunk sweat. And his skin had a dull sheen to it, even his tattoos had lost their luster, now looking like cheap body paint.   He continued to examine himself carefully...

...was that vomit clinging to his skin...

“Oh...god!”  His voice sounded hoarse and disgusting.  

He suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.  

Either that or rewind the last 24 hours and stop himself from agreeing to...whatever it was he agreed to.  

Dave slowly screwed his eyes closed - even his eyelids hurt.  How was that even possible.

Dave turned his head and whimpered into his pillow.  

Why did he say yes to going out? Why did he say yes to celebratory...shots?  Shots of...whatever the fuck that was...?

Why did he...

Suddenly all thought evaporated as a cool hand started stroking his forehead, a hand that was quickly replaced by a cold washcloth. Dave moaned at the sensation.  The feeling of the cold cloth against his overheated and sweaty skin was amazing.  He actually whimpered.  

As he opened his eyes, Dave found himself staring into the concerned filled grey-green eyes of his boyfriend, Chris Michaels.

“Here.” Chris held up a bottle of Gatorade with a straw. “Drink this.”  

Dave nodded and pulled the straw into his lips.  As the orange powdery tasting liquid filled his throat, Dave thought he was going to vomit, again.  Closing his eyes, he forced himself to swallow as much as he could.  The sensation of the icy liquid going down his throat actually felt amazing...he hadn’t realized he was so thirsty.  

After drinking for about thirty seconds straight,  Dave pulled back from the straw.  He let himself look back up at Chris, fearing he would find judgment there.  Instead, all he found was sympathy and adoration.  

“You’re here.”  Dave croaked out.  

“Of course I am. I live here. Where else would I be?” Chris used the washcloth to wipe off Dave’s cheeks as well.  

“Dunno...running away from your drunkard boyfriend?”

“Oh hush. You’re being over-dramatic again. I was drunk last night too...no where close to you, but certainly drunk.”

“How bad was I?”  Dave let his eyes close again, relishing the sensation of the cool washcloth against his forehead.  

“Pretty bad...”

“Did I throw up?”

Chris grimaced. “I’ve never seen quite that much vomit.”

“Oh god...I’m so sorry.” Dave let his head fall back against the pillows again, sending a sharp of pain across his brain. He groaned,

“It’s ok...really”

Dave groaned again.

“Dave...really, it’s ok.  I’m not upset. You deserved last night.  I mean, how often are you going to be able to celebrate becoming head of queer issues at the Department of Public Health?”

Dave grunted - a small smile growing on his lips.

He heard Chris laugh softly. “You kicked ass! Fuck, you did better than kick ass...you did things to that job application that guys at the Eagle would be embarrassed to talk about!”

Dave stifled a laugh, mainly because it would have hurt too much to laugh.

“I’m really proud of you, babe…” Chris’ voice got soft and hesitant. “Even if you did try to stick your tongue down Jeff’s throat. And then vomit in our front hallway.”

“I what!?” Dave nearly pushed himself up again, until his body reminded him that lying down still was his best bet to avoid any further vomiting.

“Don’t worry...Jeff thought it was funny.  And the vomit wasn’t too hard to clean up.  Course, you did vomit a lot in the bathroom too.”

“Oh god...Kill me.”

“Nah. I love you too much to do that.  How about I just file it in the back of my head to use against you as I see fit?”

“I think that’s actually worse. How did I get so bad anyways?”

“Jessica...how else?”

“Jess. Of course.” Dave sighed at the mention of his best friend, who had started rediscovering her more free spirited self...

“The two of you started in on tequila shots.”

“Oh god.”

“If it helps, she’s feeling just as bad as you are. She called a little while ago.”

“Good...god damn. She knows I go a little crazy when I have tequila.”

“You say crazy. I say sex maniac.”  

“What did I do?”

“Tried to hump me outside the bar...for starters.”

“For starters?  Oh....Chris...I...”

“Shush.  If you had actually been able to stand up and, you know, not sound like you were some kind of bad Bob Dylan impersonator, I would totally have gone for it.”

Dave, risking disaster, rolled onto his side and snuggled closer to Chris. He opened his eyes and looked up at the other man.  “Thank you for looking after me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dave glanced at the bedside table again.  When he saw the date illuminated underneath the time, his blood ran cold. February 14th.  

Fuck.

“Fuck!”

“What’s wrong?”  Chris asked.

“I ruined Valentine’s Day.”

“No you didn’t!”  Chris laughed.  “Besides, you hate Valentine’s Day.”  

“Well, yeah...but that doesn’t mean that I should be so hungover that I’m still in bed at three in the afternoon on a day I should be spending with you.”

“So, get up. And come hang out with me.”

“What are you doing?”

“Watching TV.”

“See...you’re not supposed to be just watching TV alone today. We should be doing something romantic!”

“Dave...really...you were celebrating getting a big new job yesterday! You are allowed to be hungover! I’m not mad at  you...plus, you hate Valentine’s Day!”

“Promise you’re not mad.”

“Yes. I promise. I really do.  But if you want to come join me on the couch, I’d like that.”

“OK.  What are you watching?”

“Lost.”

“That show’s been over for more than a decade, how are you just watching it for the first time now?”

“I like waiting...plus now, I don’t have to listen to people’s insane theories about it. I can just watch it. Come on...you can protect me from the smoke monster. Or we can watch a movie.”

“Can I pick?”

“No. Because you feel like crap, which means you’re gonna want to watch Star Wars or something...”

“It makes me feel better. We can watch the new ones...”

“Just get up! We can pick together.  And I’ll order us Thai for for dinner...hot and sour soup for you.”  

Chris pushed himself up and started towards the door leading to the rest of the apartment.  

“Chris!” Dave called softly from the bed.  

“Yeah, babe.”  Chris turned around in the doorway, even with the room bathed in shadow, Dave could see the smile on the man’s face.

“I love you.”

“I know.”  

“Don’t quote Star Wars unless you’re going to let me watch it!”

*********************************

“I just don’t get how you find this movie entertaining...” Dave let his head flop back against the pile of cushions that he was propped up against on the couch. “Even the dialogue is bad.”

“It just is. And this coming from the man who owns The Phantom Menace...Now hush up.” Chris  shot back from where he was lying in-between Dave’s legs, with his head against Dave’s chest.  

“I needed to own the whole series - and I’ve never actually watched that one…”

“Liar...we’ve watched it together!”

“Well...you needed to see the whole story...and...and you’re not even watching the movie. You have your eyes closed.”

“I don’t need to see it to know what’s going on.”

“It makes no sense...”

“You say the same thing about your movies all the time. And you agreed to watching Dune...so stop complaining.”

“I like complaining.”  

“David...Dune is one of my favorite movies.  You wanted to watch science fiction, and when I suggested this you said yes.  So, hush!”

“I’m the one suffering...”

“I have no sympathy for you. None at all.”

“Whatever.  Can you pass me my soup...with you lying on top of me, I can’t reach it.”

Chris sighed in false exasperation as he heaved himself off the sofa, grabbing the soup container.

“Here. You feeling better?”

“Yeah.  I am...my head still feels like someone is building a set of condos in there...but other than that, I’m ok.”

Chris turned over and pressed his lips to Dave’s forehead.  “I’m sorry sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” Dave grinned at his boyfriend.  He reached out and ran a hand slowly across Chris’ face. Chris’ eyes fluttered shut at the sensation and then turned his head to press a kiss against Dave’s palm.  

“Can we watch the rest of the movie now?”  Chris said, smiling.

“Yeah yeah...I’ll try to be quiet.  I just don’t get why Sting is in this...”

“And I don’t get how you can watch Star Wars every year, when you know every single line...every single one...so can we call it even?”

“Yeah. Fine. And…”

“Please can you not go into your whole thing about how Star Wars is a perfect movie and stands the test of time and is an allegory for blah blah blah…”

“I wasn’t…”

Chris jabbed  him.

“Okay, I was. And fine, watch your weird desert movie. But after this, I’m watching Rouge One or The Avengers.”

“Whatever, Dave-osaurus.” Chris turned back around and settled himself back against Dave’s chest.  Dave wrapped an arm around Chris, hugging him tightly.  With the other, he took a drink of his soup.  

He was constantly blown away by his life.  By the life he got to live every single day of the year. He was floored that he had this person in his life.  There were days when all this...it just seemed so surreal.

Three years...they’d been together for three years.  And three years ago, Dave had been a lonely grad student, desperately in need of a break from work. It was a break that would forever change his life...

*********************

**_2017_ **

He tossed his pen down in frustration - tired of reading the same five sentences over and over again for the last hour. Nothing was going on - nothing of worth anyways.

Dave was tired. Burnt out even.

He sighed and flipped the cover closed on yet another giant public health document.

Dave was at the end of his Master’s  in Public Policy at Georgetown, and was currently interning at the US Public Health Service Department - having scored a spot on the committee for LGBT teens.

(Well...that was only one of his jobs…)

Plus, he was part of a joint think tank between the university and the Office for Civil Rights; mostly in the hopes of landing a job offer there once he graduated.  

(It wasn’t quite the career in law that his dad had - secretly - hoped for...but it was damn close, as his dad told him when he saw him almost every weekend.)   

Dave glanced at the tiny antique alarm clock on his desk - quarter to six at night. Normally, at this on a Wednesday evening, Dave would be visiting his dad and doing his laundry while he worked on a paper or holed up in his tiny apartment reading reading for tomorrow’s committee meeting - which was what he’d been trying to do for the last hour. But tonight, it just wasn’t happening -  he’d had enough. He needed to get out of here - get out away from these four walls.

Glancing at his laptop - where the screen saver alternated between a shot of his calendar and shot of the Millennium Falcon nose diving into an ancient Star Destroyer - he saw his salvation.    Weeks ago, he’d made a note about a big book signing at Books for America in Dupont Circle - the guy who had taken over George RR Martin’s A Song of Fire and Ice series was signing and answering questions. He could go - geek out and maybe browse or grab a coffee after - then get back here and finish reading the report for tomorrow. So, Dave grabbed his jacket, shoved his copy of the guy’s latest book into his messenger bag and raced out the door.   

As he hurried towards the closest Metro station, Dave felt decidedly naughty.  

\--/--

The signing, plus a rather uninspiring Q&A, had lasted about two hours - probably longer than it should have.  As the store cleared of people, Dave decided to continue browsing...relishing in a night of freedom (or procrastination).  As he browsed the Star Wars books, contemplating buying himself the latest Fate of the Jedi offering, someone cleared his throat behind him.  

Dave turned around to face a stocky blond man wearing glasses. The man was short, but built like a linebacker...which usually makes shorter men appear overweight, but somehow managed to worked perfectly this guy.  His hair was very short - nearly a buzz-cut.  He wore a pair of thin framed black glass, which actually drew attention to the startling grey-green shade of his eyes.  Eyes that took Dave’s breath away...they were deep and soulful and utterly beautiful.  

Dave couldn’t stop the grin that started to form on his face.  

The guy, however, was clearly too nervous to even notice...he kept shifting his weight between his feet and twisting his hands together.  

He took a deep breath and then stammered out, “H-h-hello.”

“Hi.” Dave smiled.  It was clear that this guy had been working up the nerve to say hello for a while, so he decided to help him out. “How are you?” In the years since moving to Washington, Dave had gotten very comfortable talking to guys. (A remarkable change from the shy, introverted guy he’d been back in 2012).  He still hated the cold open - which is what this guy was facing - but he was quite comfortable just talking to a guy.  

“I’m ok.  I...um...I really liked your question.” The poor guy looked like he was going to pass out soon.

“Oh? You were at the signing?”

“Yeah...I really liked the original books, so I wanted to hear what this guy had to say about the new series.”

“Mostly what I heard was that he wanted to make a lot of money.”

“Yeah...that pretty much summed it up.” The guy gave a small awkward giggle. “So, uh, are you a sci-fi fan?”  He gestured towards the book in Dave’s hand.  

“Yeah. I am. Big Star Wars fan.  Always have been.”

“Cool - I’m more a fantasy or comic book guy myself.”

“Comics are awesome!” Dave grinned.  “I have a huge collection of Batman stuff at home.”

“Cool. Fan of Batgirl?” The guy blurted out the question, as though desperately seeking for some common ground between them.

Dave smiled at the obvious attempt to keep the conversation going.  Having been there dozens of times himself, Dave knew how nerve wracking this kind of thing could be. So, nodding happily, Dave replied “Of course. I’d have to be dumb not to be.” (Despite the fact that he’d maybe read like three issues of anything related to Batgirl.)  

“Barbara Gordon or Stephanie Brown?”

Dave remember the name Gordon...or was he just remembering Gary Oldman in the Batman movies....still, worth a try.  “Barbara Gordon all the way!”

The guy nodded at this...contemplating it for a moment.  Then, smiling as though he deemed the response acceptable, he held out his hand.  “I’m Chris, by the way.”

“And I’m Dave. It’s nice to meet you.” Dave put out his own hand,  and nearly swooned at the sheer strength in Chris’ hand.  

“Yeah...um…” Uh oh, Dave thought, here it comes...the big ask. “would you like to have a coffee?  We could just go to Firehook, it's just around the corner.”  Chris looked nervous again.  

For a moment, Dave’s mind flashed back to his tiny apartment - the report sitting on his desk and what saying no would mean: boredom, cups of coffee from his Keurig machine, and inevitably jacking off before falling asleep. (How depressing). Or...he could say yes, and even if he had to say up half the night reading, he doubted that he’d regret it.  “Sure. I’d like that. You’ll have to lead the way - I don’t spend a lot of time in around Dupont Circle.”  

“Cool!” Chris’ entire face lit up.  “I’ll lead the way.  Um...did you want to buy that first?” Chris nodded at the book Dave was still holding.

“No...I have something much better to occupy myself with tonight.”  God...was that cheesy?  That was cheesy...Dave kicked mentally kicked himself.  

Chris’ smile seemed to grow even larger.  “I’m glad. Come on...while we walk, I’ll explain why Stephanie Brown is far superior as Batgirl.”

Dave found himself wanting nothing more than to listen to Chris talk about comic books...or whatever else he felt like talking about. “Try it. I’m sure I can be convinced.”   

“Wait till I start lending you copies of her series...”  Chris stopped, suddenly realizing that he had just suggested they would be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Dave reached out and put his hand on the small of Chris’ back.  “I look forward to reading them.”  He said softly.  

Chris just blushed.    

“So, how long did it take you to work up the nerve to talk me?”

“From the moment you walked in the store...” Chris muttered, barely loud enough for Dave to hear.

*********************

**_2020_ **

“What are you thinking about?” Chris’ lips were suddenly pressing his lips against Dave’s. Dave hadn’t even realized the other man had moved off of his chest, much less was now kneeling next to him on the couch, with an amused look on his face.  

Dave must have looked a million miles away.  He smiled at Chris.  “About the day we met.”

“Oh?  Were you reflecting on how insanely awkward and inarticulate I was?”

“You weren’t that bad...”

“I almost peed myself three times trying to work up the nerve to talk to you! And the only thing I could think of to talk about was Batgirl - which you lied about having read, by the way.”

“I thought it was cute. And I wanted to seem all cool and knowledgeable so you would keep talking to me.”  

“Now that’s cute...sexy even.”

“Thanks...still think I’m sexy?”

“You’re sexy no matter what.”

“You are a very accomplished liar. I doubt that last night I was all that sexy.”

“Uh huh...something about that much vomit, well it takes the magic away.  But the magic is right back there today, so nothing to worry about. You’re still sexy.”

“You know all the right things to say...” Dave pressed his nose to Chris’.

“You’re such a sap...so why the memory lane trip?”  

“Just thinking about it...no actual reason. I guess sometimes I just can’t get over how my life turned out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, uh, you know... eight years ago, this was just a fantasy. Eight years ago, the only thing possible outcome I could see to my life was...”

“Dave...stop! I hate it when you talk about that...it always just...I just hate it. But, you survived. Remember! You survived! You fought to get out of that damn place...and you ended up getting a scholarship to one of the best universities in the country. You didn’t die that day...you lived. And I am so happy you did. And now, look at you! You’re working in public health - on gay teen issues. Dave, you’re the success story. You’re proof that it does get better. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a role model to all those other closeted, self-hating teenagers out there. You got out.  You’re not off visiting the glory-holes every weekend or buying some rent boy once a month or whatever...you’re not buried six feet under” Chris had twisted himself completely around so he could wrap his arms around Dave.

Dave couldn’t help the tears.  He nodded.  “That was a very specific image there…”

“Don’t make jokes…”

Dave sighed. “Fuck...I hate it when I start thinking about all that...but I hated myself so much...I hated...” Dave pressed his forehead against Chris’.

“Shhhh...You made it out, Dave.  You went through hell as a teenager, so stop acting like you don’t deserve it.”

“I certainly don’t deserve you...”

“Shut up! You do...” Chris slapped the side of Dave’s head.

“Ow! Even when you have to clean up my tequila vomit on Valentine’s Day...” Dave smiled.  

“Even then. I’m glad you’re here...”

Dave wrapped his arms around Chris, hugging him tightly. Dave shut his eyes and breathed in deeply Chris’ scent.  He marveled at the sensation of bulky, muscular package in his arms. It never ceased to amaze him. He felt Chris slither down his body until he fit the top of his head into the nook directly his chin.  

Eight years ago...this would have been a pipe dream for him. Eight years ago...this was a fantasy.  Now he got to live it each and every day.  

They lay like that for a long time, with _Dune_ playing quietly in the background.  

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dave.”

Dave smiled.  Nodding, he whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day to you Chris.”

*********

Dave was trying very hard to pay attention to what was going on in the movie, but if he was going to be really honest...this damn film bored him to death.  Keeping his eyes open, he ignored the disgusting burning feeling in his stomach and let his mind wander.

February 14th.  

Dave hated Valentine’s Day.  

Hated it.  

As far as he was concerned, it was one of the most useless holidays ever invented.  And, it was an invented holiday, regardless of what wikipedia might say.

Even after three years with Chris, Dave hated Valentine’s Day...despite Chris’ obvious attempts at winning Dave’s affections to the side of romance.

That first Valentine’s … it had oozed romance. Starting with dinner at The Little Fountain Cafe, drinks at Veritas Wine Bar and finally, a walk along The Mall - where Chris gave Dave a leather and silver bracelet by the Washington Monument.

(Which he still wore almost every day)

But as special as the day had been, Dave just...just couldn’t find it in him to embrace the idea of Valentine’s Day.  

Mainly because Valentine’s Day usually just meant rejection.  

Traditionally, Valentine’s Day found Dave kicked to the curb...or just completely depressed.  

When he was seventeen...sitting alone in his room, he entertained the idea of swallowing a bottle of sleeping pills.  

When he was eighteen...well, his heart had been broken into a million little pieces.  

When he was nineteen...he was still unable to even entertain the idea of  romance or a relationship...

At Twenty...he’d been dumped. _On_ Valentine’s Day.

At Twenty-one...stood up, by a hook from Squirt. (Of all places!)

At Twenty-Two...that one, he’d spent alone eating an extra large pizza, a pint of Chunky Monkey and watching Star Wars.  And porn.

At Twenty-Three...drunk and high, he wound up in some guy’s bed, after spending the night at The Green Lantern.  

And at Twenty-Four...Chris had entered the picture.  

But Chris had given him one good Valentine’s among how many bad ones?  Dave just didn’t trust Valentine’s Day...Valentine’s Day was out to get him...

Even today...he was hungover as shit. Unable to do anything romantic with Chris, not even have a glass of wine. All he could do, today, was lie here and watch bad sci-fi

Disappointment. For Dave it was as synonymous with Valentine’s Day as roses or hearts.

As Dave lay on the couch with Chris, watching Sting run around a desert planet, he let his mind ponder over the last eight years...especially the last eight Valentine's Days...

He knew where this bad luck streak had started...he could practically pinpoint it.  February 14th, 2012...the day he’d admitted his feelings to one Kurt Hummel.  

Kurt Hummel...it had been, well if he was going to be honest, it had only been a few weeks since he’d thought of that name.  

Regardless of what he was doing, Kurt Hummel still followed him around.  Not in the way that one might think...it wasn’t a ‘the one that got away’ sort of thing, but more a ghost or whisper of the past...one of those shadows that sort of stayed with you.  

Kurt Hummel...Dave’s first big love.  

Kurt Hummel had saved him.  Saved him multiple times over, in fact.  

Kurt had known that to an extent.  Dave had told him so on that ill-fated Valentine’s Day all those years ago.  But Kurt had never known the full extent of what he had done for Dave.

Kurt had kept his promise. He had helped Dave through some of the worst days of his life. He’d been there on the day Dave came home from the hospital. He’d been there when Dave’s mother’s church group had practically assaulted Dave with reprogramming literature. He’d been there when Dave’s dad had finally filed for divorce. He’d been there when Dave re-enrolled at McKinley. He went with Dave to his first gay youth group. He’d always been on the other end of the phone when the nightmares threatened to overtake Dave. He was there when Dave ran into a few kids of his old school.  He had been there while Dave suffered through all the side effects of his anti-depressants - the numbness, the weight gain, the anxiety...all of it.  

And somehow, perhaps because of those reasons, their friendship changed.  Shifted.  And one day, Kurt was there in an entirely different way. Asking Dave to be something that was much greater than friends.  

And suddenly, Kurt had become Dave’s first.

First love.

First real kiss.

First time.

And then, he became Dave’s first - and second - major heartbreak.  

Throughout their long and sordid story, Kurt had managed to utterly destroy Dave’s heart at least a dozen times...sometimes he did so without even knowing it...like just the fact that Kurt even existed managed to break Dave’s heart.  

Dave’s inability to be brave enough to tell Kurt about his sexuality...

Kurt’s face each and every time Dave bulled him.

Kurt’s face after that fatal first kiss.

At prom when he asked Dave to dance.

At Scandals...looking lost and uncomfortable as his boyfriend danced with another boy.

When Kurt said the words: “I’m with Blaine...”

...and then “I want to get to know you as friends...”

Then the miracle happened and Dave got a chance to be with Kurt...

And all that followed had been...the biggest heartbreak of all.  The one that left Dave decimated.  

Dave had tried to get over Kurt...he’d tried so hard.  But Kurt had seeped into his brain. Into his heart. And as hard as Dave worked to keep their relationship platonic, something just kept forcing them together. And eventually Dave lowered his defenses and let Kurt in.    

Whatever those forces had been...a mutual trust, teenage longing, or something else, something closer to love - the friendship fell away and Dave found himself with a boyfriend.

As Dave’s eyes ran over the figure of the man that he now shared his life with - nearly eight years after those fleeting summer months - he found that he couldn’t help but wonder about Kurt.  

Where was Kurt living? Did he stay in New York? Did he become a king of Broadway...although, Dave figured that he hadn’t, since Dave did occasionally read Broadway blogs.

Did he have a partner?  

A family, maybe?

What would Kurt think of Dave’s life?  

All those years ago, in the hospital, Kurt had urged Dave to imagine a life for himself ten years in the future...with a husband.  A child. A home. A job...

That very fantasy had been the one thing that Dave had held on to through the dark days and the heartbreaks.  The idea that somewhere out there was the perfect life for himself.

"I’m so happy right now.”

Dave hadn’t even realized he’d said that aloud until Chris turned his head slightly, and smiling, replied.  “I am too babe. I couldn’t be happier.”

Chris turned back to the television and continued watching the movie in silence, unaware that his boyfriend’s brain was meandering the long untravelled roads of his past. Unaware that all Dave could really focus on the image of Kurt Hummel...

There was no real reason for Dave to be thinking about Kurt at this moment.  No reason for Kurt to even be relevant to Dave’s life.  

Except...except it was Valentine’s Day.  And as far as Dave was concerned, that meant it was Kurt’s day.  Valentine’s Day had marked the start of Dave’s fight back from the brink of death.  It was the day when Dave had spilled his heart to Kurt...which eventually lead Kurt to open himself up the possibility of a relationship.

_“Do you still like me?”_

Valentine’s Day might have marked the start of Dave’s downfall and eventual resurrection as a gay man...as a man who fought to scrap out a life for himself, but it also marked the moment the moment when Dave’s greatest heartbreak had begun.

_…”I’ve wanted to kiss you like a million times...”_

Kurt might have hurt him. Might have shattered him.  Might have marked Valentine’s Day as the worst day in history, as far as Dave was concerned, but his presence in Dave’s life held another significant role.

He had given Dave hope.

Real hope.

He had given Dave the ability to see into his future...and what he witnessed there had driven him.  

This moment...lying on his brand new couch from Room & Board, with his arms wrapped around the man he loved more than anything else in the entire world, watching some weird 80s sci-fi film...was the fulfillment of that hope.

Kurt...

Kurt...

Kurt needed to know. Needed to know how big of an impact he had.

Dave needed Kurt to know that the hope he’d given, the love they’d shared...had helped.  That Dave was living his dream.

_“I’m so happy right now.”_

Dave pressed his face into Chris’s hair, breathing in deeply.  He knew he had to try. He had to try to tell Kurt...

It was time to find the man who had changed his life so remarkably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will be told partly in the "present" and partly through flashbacks...which means: Next Chapter - we go back to high school.


End file.
